


Just A Little Sensitive

by bunbunjolras



Series: Noodle Boyfriends [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, unbearable cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 16:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunbunjolras/pseuds/bunbunjolras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few months down the road, Grantaire learns a surprising truth about Enjolras</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just A Little Sensitive

After a few noodle-dates, including one adventure out to a restaurant for “proper” noodles, as Enjolras called them, Grantaire had finally, finally plucked up the courage to ask Enjolras to bend down so he could kiss him properly. Enjolras had laughed, the bastard, and asked Grantaire why he’d not done that sooner. 

 

It was during their first proper date as boyfriends (the phrase made Enjolras blush luminously whenever Grantaire referred to him as his boyfriend), a few weeks after they first met that the artist discovered something incredibly interesting about the blond man. More interesting than the fact that when he drank milk too quickly he'd get the hiccups, and that he coughed like a demon and sneezed like a kitten, and only marginally more interesting than the fact that he had once moaned - actually, properly moaned - "oh, Patria" in his sleep. Not that he and Grantaire had slept in the same bed yet - they were taking it slow, and the time he'd fallen asleep at Grantaire's apartment they'd been watching a movie together and Enjolras had been exhausted from the rally he'd been at earlier in the day, and had ended up with his head in Grantaire's lap, snoring kitten-purr snores.

 

It was a Monday evening, and Enjolras looked like he’d just stepped from the pages of a fashion magazine, as usual - today he was wearing dark red jeans that clung sinfully to his ass, black Docs and a black shirt that was not buttoned up particularly far, and his hair was straightened, swept back from his face and held up with a red ribbon. And, as usual, he was incredibly tall. Standing beside him made Grantaire feel short and dumpy in comparison, especially with his ratty jeans (the best in his wardrobe), faded t-shirt he bought at a gig he could barely remember (the only one not paint-stained), battered leather jacket (the warmed he had) and soft woollen beanie with far too many holes in it (the only thing he had that covered his paint spattered hair). But with Enjolras' arm around his shoulders and his own arm slipped around the blond man’s waist, Grantaire found it incredibly difficult to keep himself from grinning like an idiot. It helped as well that Enjolras was hanging on Grantaire's every word, apparently incapable of taking his eyes off of him across the table, and for a while he felt like he was the luckiest man in the universe.

 

They had settled on a tiny French bistro near to where Enjolras lived, a place where he seemed to know all of the staff and a pretty young man named Jean Prouvaire, or maybe just Jehan, Grantaire wasn’t sure, greeted them at the door with a kiss to each cheek and led them to a table tucked away in the corner of the restaurant, turning so quickly on his heel that his thick red braid almost knocked the candle off the table. 

 

It was a nice enough meal, andouilette and coq au vin, and a shared plate of some sort of gooey, chocolate cake with a whole lot of liquor in it, but the most interesting thing that happened that evening happened when they arrived back at Enjolras’ apartment. Once they were inside, Grantaire pressed up against Enjolras, only just managing to slip his hand up the back of his neck and into Enjolras’ hair to pull him a little closer to kiss him when the blond, to his great surprise, let out a rather loud laugh, squirming away from his fingers a little bit.

 

"Oh god," Enjolras giggled, dropping his head down to rest on Grantaire’s shoulder. "I’m so sorry. I’m just really, really ticklish.”

 

Grantaire raised a single eyebrow and smirked. “Oh really? How did this escape my notice until now?”

 

Before Enjolras could react properly to his evil expression, the artist has his fingers trailing over his neck, and the blond almost crumpled, laughing hysterically as he slumped against Grantaire, breathless.

 

"You’re evil," the blond cried into his boyfriend’s shoulder, tears seeping out of the corners of his eyes.

 

"I wonder where else you’re ticklish," Grantaire mused, dragging his fingers up Enjolras' still clothed ribs.

 

"Oh god, no," Enjolras giggled, and Grantaire led him over to the sofa, pushing him down onto the cushions and slowly unbuttoning his shirt. He pushed the shirt back off of his shoulders and ran his fingers down Enjolras' neck, delighting in the way Enjolras shuddered beneath him, leaning down to press little kisses onto his sensitive skin, making sure to find the most sensitive spots he could to nip lightly at to feel the blond moan and writhe a little beneath him.

 

"How long were you planning on hiding this from me?" Grantaire smirked into his shoulder, slipping one hand down to brush against the crook of Enjolras' elbow, which had him sniggering under his breath in an attempt to hide this sensitive spot from Grantaire. The artist had no qualms about bringing his head down to the pale skin there and sucking a bruise into it, using his weight to pin Enjolras to the sofa. He bucked a little beneath him, but all Grantaire did in response was to sit more fully on his legs and smirk up at him. Enjolras' perfect golden hair was coming loose of its ribbon, and he was flushed and a little dazed. "You doing okay?"

 

He nodded, biting down on his lip gently as he did so. "I'm just a little...sensitive. That's all." 

 

Grantaire chuckled and leaned up to kiss Enjolras properly, his tongue swiping across the seam of his lips briefly before he retreated. "Let's see if we can't take advantage of that, then." Unfortunately, Grantaire didn't get to take advantage of it all that much after all. 

 

The barest brush of his fingers against the lower part of his belly, over a thin dusting of soft golden hair, had Enjolras breathless and almost rolling off the couch.

 

"Well," Grantaire murmured. "This is interesting."

 

"Stop," Enjolras cackled as Grantaire ran a light fingertip over his stomach again. "Oh god, please stop."

 

Grantaire chuckled and leaned closer. “I wonder,” he murmured, before leaning down so as he was just an inch away from Enjolras’ skin. He blew lightly on the pale skin, and Enjolras bucked so hard beneath him, almost shrieking with laughter, that Grantaire rolled clean off the sofa and landed on the floor with a loud thud.

 

"I told you to stop," Enjolras giggled, turning over on the sofa to look down at his boyfriend on the floor.

 

"I know," Grantaire said, grinning in response. He leaned up and kissed him gently, making sure to keep his fingers away from any of Enjolras’ newly discovered hot-spots. "I need to remember this. How to make Enjolras squirm."

 

Enjolras laughed and threw a pillow at Grantaire’s face. “Shut up and get back up here.”


End file.
